Tempting the Fire (22 page)

“Let’s keep moving,” he mouthed back, and she nodded, even as he tugged her to walk ahead of him.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled for the next half mile. Sela was right—this thing was tracking them, methodically. Quietly. Like it was …

practicing.

And then it growled, and Logan stopped dead, drew his gun.

The growl hadn’t come from behind him so much as it seemed like it came from everywhere, surrounding them, and he circled slowly, trying to locate it 124

before it could make a surprise attack.

Sela had turned so they were back to back and moving together—four eyes circling continuously, an excellent instinctive safety move.

Except it wasn’t instinctive. Someone had taught her quite well, and he didn’t have time to think about why a cryptozoologist needed to know combat moves, because the snarling, red-eyed chupa leaped out of the tree directly in front of him with no further fanfare, as if tired of hiding.

As if it knew it was unstoppable.

Well, fuck that.

Logan shot four rounds at the beast, but the damned thing was fast as well as strong, and suddenly it took him by the throat and threw him, violently.

Sela screamed as Logan landed with a jolting crash against the trunk of a tree. He willed himself not to pass out, because the beast had stopped focusing on him and was moving toward Sela.

With a roar, he used the momentum from pushing away from the tree to fling himself toward the chupacabra.

His mechanical arm still functioned, despite the break in the wires, but it felt weak and his legs weren’t much better. He needed an advantage, and as much as he hated to do it, he let the rage that had been slowly building since he was injured yesterday take over.

It was a risk—he couldn’t be sure if he’d be able to bring himself back from the edge.

“Sela, get to camp,” he managed to yell before he saw red—literally.

The next moments were a blur. He had a vague awareness of grabbing the creature by the throat, the cold, scaled skin crumpling under his fingers. His emotions were out of his control completely for those moments, and he felt the urge to kill race through him. He rolled with the beast, both fighting for the upper hand—he heard his own grunts mix with the chupacabra’s, the metallic taste of his own blood in his mouth from when he’d been slammed by the creature.

Sela’s yells brought him back to a lucidity of sorts, and it was then he remembered Chance and the infection, and he managed to stay out of reach of the thing’s teeth. And he knew that if he didn’t pull back his fury immediately, the bioware malfunction would take over the human emotion … and he’d be as much of a danger to Sela as the chupacabra.

Bad enough she’d seen him so out of control.

He wasn’t sure if he let go or if the chupa got away, but he saw it disappear into the thick brush. “Why did it run? Something must’ve spooked it. Unless I did manage to hurt it—if it’s weak, now’s the perfect time to go after it.”

He heard himself babbling, felt his disorientation. Dammit, he needed his injection, and soon.

“Logan, it’s okay—you must’ve scared it.”

He stared at her. Her eyes held concern not fear, and good, that was good.

“I can get it. I have to.”

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“No. Let’s go.” She pulled at him and he let her help him drag himself to his feet. His body felt depleted, like he’d run too far too fast, and he leaned against her.

When he was finally upright, she told him, “If you go after it now, you’ll die.”

He stared at her. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“It’s okay, Logan. Really. You saved me.”

“I hate this. Hate that I’m built with fucking parts.” He closed his eyes and swayed, didn’t open them until her palm brushed his cheek.

“I don’t hate anything about you. And those parts are what saved us.” Her words were soft, but sure. “But if we don’t get you back to camp, I’m not going to have the chance to prove that to you. And you’re not going to live to capture the chupacabra.”

She was right. And her words made him smile, despite the weakness. He lowered his mouth to hers for a brief moment, holding her and wishing that this could be real. Hoping it was.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Let’s go.”

“Just one second?” Sela gave him a sheepish look as she picked through the forest floor to pluck a couple of the beast’s scales from the dirt. Then she very carefully broke a blood-coated leaf off a branch, rolled it up and stuck it in her pocket.

She was still smiling like a kid on Christmas day as they humped it back to camp.

***

DEV WAS AT HIS DESK, FIRMING UP PLANS TO SEND IN

OPERATIVES to back up Sela and Marlena in order to accomplish the physical takedown.

He wanted both Akbar and Stryker for this mission. The men made a good team, and Stryker knew the Amazon jungles and had a skill that no one could rival, so he’d be the perfect choice to help Sela and Marlena.

Stryker had just returned from a four-month mission in the Middle East—

he’d bitch about going back out again, but if Dev plied him with a twenty-four-hour Seducer-fest, his operative would come around.

Now Dev ran his hands through his hair as his entire body felt as though there was electricity rising off it. Worse than pins and needles, this was a sense of foreboding, as if he’d suddenly become a divining rod leading straight to something that had gone fucking wrong. And it had nothing to do with the Seducers’ mission.

No, this was something different.

He barked for Christine—barked because she wasn’t Marlena, and that was 126

frustrating the hell out of him.

God forbid any of the agents kept up on paperwork since Marlena stopped being his assistant, and Jesus, Christine needed to learn to kick some ass, and fast, or ACRO would go to shit.

It wasn’t all her fault, of course. She was just too … nice. Too accommodating. And she couldn’t read his goddamned mind.

“Give her a break, Dev, she’s trying.”

Dev swung around, to find Gabe sitting on his couch, feet up. “How long have you been here?”

Gabe smiled, the same smile that made Dev want to throw him over the back of the couch and fuck him until they were both exhausted—which was a real possibility.

“I’m in training—I can’t stop for sex,” Gabe told him, and Dev wondered if the younger man really did have mind-reading abilities. “I just stopped in to show off my newest skill.”

“I know you can make yourself invisible,” Dev muttered as he stared at the beautiful blond man. But his lover hadn’t ever been able to sneak into his office undetected. Dev wasn’t sure he liked it, but hell, this could come in handy. “How long have you been here?”

Gabe shrugged. “Long enough. I like watching you.”

Devlin pulled the man to him fiercely. “I plan on doing more than watching you.”

Gabriel melted against him as the two men fought for control—neither won, and they ended up slamming onto Dev’s desk, sending a plethora of objects scattering to the floor, loudly.

Christine finally buzzed in, but bad fucking timing, and Dev told her to belay his order before he turned the radio on, since Gabriel tended to get loud and God fucking knew Christine would call in security if she heard yells.

She was the daughter of one of his oldest and most trusted agents, a psychic who was second in command in that department only to Sam. Christine had no special powers of her own, beyond an intricate understanding of the ACRO

structure and its need for secrecy and discretion. So far, Devlin hadn’t been worried about her in those areas.

But in others …

“Stop thinking. Fuck me,” Gabriel murmured breathlessly, stripping himself naked as Dev contented himself with sucking the side of his neck, bracing his hands on the mahogany desk as he lay on top of the younger man.

Content until he heard the voice float into his consciousness.

Dev, fuck—I need help.

“Dev, what’s wrong?” Gabe’s voice mingled with Creed’s—Dev raised a finger. And Creed’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Devlin, I need your fucking help. It’s Ani. We’re in trouble.”

“Where are you?” he asked out loud. Gabe cocked his head and watched 127

him for a second and then he disappeared.

Smart man. Dev knew Gabe wouldn’t hide here under the cloak of invisibility—no, his lover was a hell of a lot savvier than that. Though he might hang out long enough to see who Dev was dealing with.

“Behind your house, the first road,” Creed was answering him. “I can’t go back home to Ani until I talk to you.”

Just then the line on Devlin’s desk buzzed. Christine. “Devlin? Annika’s here, asking to see you.”

“Shit,” Dev said fiercely. “Creed, she’s here.”

“She’s pregnant, Dev. And she doesn’t know that I know.”

Dev felt his heart drop to his feet as Annika stormed into the office.

“Gabriel’s not here,” he said, well aware that his standard-issue black BDU shirt was unbuttoned to his stomach.

Annika smirked for a second. “I’m not here about him. Although he’s a royal pain in the ass.” She shut the door—on Christine’s face—and Dev felt Gabe melt out of the room. Through the wall this time. Interesting. His lover’s skills were getting stronger, but Gabriel still wasn’t able to touch anyone, or anything, when he was invisible. He claimed that his hand—indeed, his body—would pass right through any object he attempted to reach out and grab.

Every ability always came with its own issues.

Which of course meant that Gabriel’s clothes were still on the floor. Dev surreptitiously kicked them under the desk.

Annika clapped her hands together. “Earth to Dev. I’ve got a huge problem.

Astronomical, bring-down-the-house huge.”

Don’t tell me, Annika. Have some sense—think about how pissed Creed will be knowing you told me first instead of him …

“Where’s Creed? I’m sure he’d want to help you.”

At the mention of Creed’s name, she bit her lower lip and went silent.

Dev took that opportunity to give her a subtle once-over; if he didn’t know about her condition, he wouldn’t have guessed. She still looked slim and strong, although her face did look slightly drawn. And there were some telltale circles under her eyes as well.

If she was pregnant, it could be a real problem for her, mission-wise. And health-wise.

He remembered what happened to Faith when she’d been pregnant—she’d nearly died on a mission because her powers had been affected, had grown progressively weaker with every month of gestation.

They hadn’t been sure she’d even get her powers back after she’d given birth. Thankfully, she had … but they weren’t as constant a danger as Annika’s were.

Dev had never thought any of this would be an issue. Annika had never ever wanted children and she wasn’t the type to change her opinions about things.

Even now, as she stood in front of him, he could see that nothing had 128

changed. That brought a slight relief, but he still held his breath as he waited for her to speak.

ANNIKA’S STOMACH ROLLED OVER AS SHE STOOD THERE,

DEV’S question about Creed hanging in the air. Fuck. She’d come storming in, unsure where else to go, prepared to tell him she was pregnant so she could beg for advice on how to deal with it. But at the mention of Creed, she froze.

She and Creed had been through so much, and a big part of their problem had been Dev—Creed’s jealousy of her relationship with their boss, her dependence on him. For a long time, she relied on Dev when she should have leaned on Creed, and she’d caused her lover a lot of grief.

And here she was, reverting to old habits.

But what else could she do? Dev had saved her a long time ago, had taken her out of a life where she’d been nothing but a cold-hearted killing machine. He’d been there for her whenever she needed him, had been more of a parent to her than the people who’d raised her.

Still, she couldn’t betray Creed like this. Not after all they’d been through.

If she was going to tell anyone she was pregnant, it would be Creed.

Shit. Now what? Dev was expecting her to say something.

“It’s, ah, Baker. He’s causing all kinds of trouble at the firing range.” She’d actually planned to talk to both Ender, who ran the shooting program, and Gage, the Trainee department head, instead of jumping the chain of command to Dev, but she needed a cover for coming here, and fast.

Dev buttoned up his shirt. “Shouldn’t you be talking to—”

“Ender and Drummond. I know. But Baker isn’t in shooting instruction yet, so Ender can’t really do anything about this. We’re just on basic weapons training, and we’re cycling through the M16 right now. And Drummond is on a mission.”

She swallowed a wave of nausea and continued. “Baker is a hazard. Every time he fires the rifle, he melts every weapon within ten feet of him.”

“I know he doesn’t have control of his gift yet.”

No, he didn’t. His pyrokinetic gift was a little unique. He couldn’t make flame. Instead, he created some sort of subsonic frequency that created intense heat. “It’s not that. I think he’s doing it on purpose. He’s, like, some sort of Greenpeace nut.”

Dev cocked a dark eyebrow. “You suspect he’s a plant?”

She blew out a long breath. Groups like that had been known to infiltrate the very organizations they protested against in order to bring them down from the inside. “I don’t get that vibe. I think he’s just trying to do little things here and there to protest.” She shrugged. “I could be wrong.”

“Okay, we’ll keep an eye on him. I’ll send him to Samantha and see if she can get into his head and look around a little.”

A sudden wave of nausea rolled over Annika, and she threw out a hand to 129

brace herself on Dev’s desk. Instantly, he was there, catching her—even though she was still on her feet, thank you very much.

“I’m fine,” she ground out, though the room was spinning a little.

Dev gently guided her toward the couch. “Have a seat. Let me get you something to drink.”

“I said I’m fine!” She shrugged out of his arms. Her skin was suddenly sensitive and her eyes were watering and she wanted only to climb into bed, with Creed holding her.